


Ain't Misbehavin'

by bellezza



Category: The Diviners - Libba Bray
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 10:05:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellezza/pseuds/bellezza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's New Year's Eve, and Evie just wants to dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ain't Misbehavin'

It's New Year's Eve, the kind of perfect night all the best stories happen on. They're at a private party only for friends of friends of friends, hosted at one of the Harlem clubs Memphis knows—"Papa Charles runs all the best ones," he says, and Evie claps her hands and squeals with glee at the glamor of it. Not even a police raid could ruin the night.

The girls had gone to Theta's to get all dolled up, and Evie and Theta finally cornered Mabel into trying a stylish modern dress. With her bobbed hair framing her face in soft waves and the club lights glinting off the sequins of Mabel's powder blue gown, she looks as if she stepped right out of the pictures. Evie watches her dance with Arthur Brown, a laugh in her eye, and it seems as if Mabesie's finally filling out her own skin. Henry's in the corner chatting amiably with one of the band members, and Theta and Memphis are nowhere to be seen - probably necking around somewhere, or doing private poetry readings, the sops.

And Evie? She's danced her way from one side of the room to the other, her skin humming with the music and her tingly buzz. It's not the liquor making her drunk, or not only: it's the sheer joy she feels tonight, as her feet kick and stamp and her beads whip about with the motion of her body. Tonight is one long dance, and there's no feeling in the world like it.

In a pause between songs, she spots Jericho, sitting awkwardly in a corner on his lonesome. All of a sudden Evie's heart plummets at the sight. She'd had to plead and wheedle and pester to get him to come out tonight, and here she is, neglecting him. It won't do. She crosses the room with a purpose, elbowing her way through the press of bodies with only the most cursory cheerful apologies.

Jericho lifts his eyes and watches her before she's even halfway to him. He has a way of that - sensing her intent and finding her in the thickest of crowds. He looks bored and uncomfortable, but at the sight of her something quivers and brightens in his expression, making warmth fizz pleasantly in Evie's belly. When she reaches him she stops and strikes a dramatic pose with both hands on her hips and her lips curved in what she hopes is a very attractive pout. A flicker of amusement flits across his features.

"Here we are at the biggest, most hopping-est bash you could imagine, and you're sitting over here in the corner like a regular stiff. What gives?" Evie demands.

"I've never been to a party before."

"So? It's terribly simple. Man stands up. Man approaches dame and asks her to dance. Couple hops out onto the dance floor to wiggle. Simple as baking apple pie."

"I don't know how to dance," Jericho admits, palms flat and up-faced on his knees.

At the admission Evie deflates, guilt twisting up inside of her.  _You Dumb Dora, you._ Of course Jericho doesn't know how to dance. It shouldn't be a surprise, given what she knows about his history, but it is all the same.

She slaps her hands down against his and heaves him to his feat. "Well, mister," Evie says in her best  _no-contradictions-allowed_  voice, "no time like the present."

Ignoring Jericho's instant protest, Evie drags him back out onto the dance floor, using her elbows again to clear them a space. The band's swung into a mellower number now, not too fast but not too slow. Evie arranges their bodies and Jericho's hands, then smiles brightly up at him. "Right. Okay. Now whatever I do, you're just gonna do the opposite." He blinks down at her, looking momentarily flabbergasted, and then Evie begins to move.

Six beats, and then he's mirroring her. His body is stiff and upright against hers. But he learns fast - another twelve-count and his movements begin to smoothen out, becoming less wooden even if he's still noticeably uncomfortable. Maybe it's because his body is how it is, but more likely it's just Jericho. Solid, dependable Jericho. Evie rests her head against his chest. Part-machine and full of metalworks, but his heart still beats true.

"See?" Evie says. "Nothing to it."

They settle into the rhythm of the dance, and not once does Jericho trip or trod on her toes. Evie begins to sing along with the music, her voice low and sweet.

_"I don't stay out late, don't care to go / I'm home about eight, just me and my radio"_

She feels more than hears the chuckle rumble through Jericho's chest. "This song does not describe you. At all."

Evie swats him. "Excuse you! I'll have you know I was home by ten last night."

"And it is presently—" A pause, and Evie feels the arm at her back shift. "—twelve til midnight."

"Jericho Jones," Evie huffs, pulling back to look him in the eye, "are you  _checking your watch_? You are! You've got the prettiest girl in the room hanging from your arms, and you're  _checking your watch_. I oughtta clock you."

He smiles, a small sweet thing that makes her warm and goofy all over. "Was that a pun?"

"You're not the only clever person in this room," she retorts. But there's no venom in it, only an overwhelming sort of fondness, and they settle back into their dance.

_"Like Jack Horner in the corner / Don't go nowhere. What do I care?"_

The band finishes out the song to a round of applause, and then the emcee steps up to announce the time. "The band'll be takin' a break to welcome in the new year. Are all you fine swells and belles ready to make the count?"

The crowd hollers their assent, Evie loudest of all. Someone lets out a piercing whistle - Sam, she suspects, and rolls her eyes. Then the club falls hush as the servers turn on the big radio and tune in to the live program at Times Square. Through the crackle and hiss of the radio speaker, they hear the announcer announce the begin of the countdown.

Jericho squeezes her hand. "Thank you." The rest goes unsaid.  _For bringing me tonight. For dancing with me._

Any reply Evie might have made is lost in the voices of the crowd, calling out the seconds until the year dies. Drunk on happiness, Evie squeezes his hand back and joins everyone else in their loud salute to the end of the old year and the start of a new.

"…four, three, two, one— ** _HAPPY NEW YEAR_** _!_ " they shout as confetti and glitter rain down upon them from the ceiling. It's like being in a shower of stars. Jericho tugs Evie round to face him, and leans down to kiss her.  _Stars and fireworks._  Her eyes slide closed.

 

_Your kisses are worth waitin' for_  
 _Believe me_  
 _Ain't misbehavin'  
_ _Savin' my love for you_


End file.
